Raindrops on Roses
by WantonChef
Summary: Rogue gets some bad news, and Logan will do anything to make sure his little girl's all right. Sweet. Short fic right now, hope to develop in the future
1. Empathy

Logan burst through the huge double doors of the X-Mansion in a flurry of wind and raindrops the size of bullets. As they swung shut behind him, he was briefly silhouetted against another blaze of lightening. He hadn't even been this wet the last time he had gone swimming (which, admittedly, was a very long time ago).

He was just peeling off his second layer, a soaked red flannel, when a pair of raised voices echoed down the front stairs. As they came closer, he could make out one of the voices as Scott's, but the other - it was his little Marie who rushed down the stairs and across the large hall toward him. Only something was wrong: now he could hear Scott's voice breaking as he called after her, and Marie wasn't running to him, she had pushed past him and he saw, for just a second, the look of pure pain on her tear-streaked face.

Then she was out the doors and gone, and all he could think was that she had only been wearing a thin little sweatshirt over her old bluejeans.

"Logan, thank God!" Scott had come up behind him, and now Logan's instincts clicked in, he turned to run after her but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Dammit, Summers, what's wrong with her?" He was frantic now, his little Marie, sobbing outside in the cold March rainstorm. Scott's explanation, when it came, was stilted and laced with sadness.

"Well, y'know, we got a call from some of her folks in Mississippi. And with 'Ro visiting Hank in DC and all ... I couldn't very well ask one of the kids to tell her-" here he broke off, looking to Logan for a sign, but all he received was a look of irritated incomprehension.

"Tell her WHAT, Summers?!"

"That, well, that her father was in an accident," that was all Logan needed. He shrugged his old leather jacket back on over the still-sopping wife-beater he wore, and turned again to the door. "Logan, where are you going?" Swear-to-God, sometimes Scott could be really quite as dense as he had always thought he was.

"Where do you think? I'm going to get her back."

He was outside the gate when he finally stopped long enough to think where she might have gone. The rain would wash away both her scent and her footsteps, so there was no chance of tracking her. He would just have to keep searching until he found her.

For hours, Logan scoured the grounds and forests around the mansion. The storm continued, and in between shouts which were constantly growing more frantic, he thought about the girl he was searching for. She had only been a kid when they first met, and he a hardened wanderer. Since then, she had matured into a young woman of eighteen, and he, well if he had to admit it he had softened over the years. As one of her closest friends, he knew she had left her family for good, but couldn't help missing them. It must have killed her, knowing she had never truly said goodbye to her father. Logan kept walking, his fists clenched into tight balls at his sides. He could never stand to see her cry, and it was physically painful to imagine her alone when he wanted so badly to comfort her.

It was four in the morning when Logan found Marie a few miles from the mansion, soaked and shivering, huddled under the base of an enormous oak tree. As he got closer, he could tell she was sleeping, but even in sleep tears continued to leak from behind her eyelids. He slid down beside her against the tree, and ever so gently lifted her to rest her back against his chest, her knees leaned against one of his own, his arms holding her tightly to him. Stealing a glance at her pale face, he noticed a tear trickle across her cheek to finally perch on her barely trembling bottom lip. It reminded him of that old song, and he began to hum softly. "Raindrops on roses…"

Marie only stirred slightly, and though she didn't open her eyes, she knew who it was whose arms encircled her warmly, who whispered comfort in her ear and rocked her gently all night long.


	2. Awareness

Logan knocked gently on her door at 8:15, exactly as he had done every night for the past three weeks. It swung open quickly enough for him to know she had been waiting, but he did not mention this and only greeted her with a gruff " 'Lo, darlin'."

"Hi, Logan," since finding out about her father, Rogue had not been entirely the same. She was still sweet as ever, but more obviously introspective and reserved. She rarely spoke to anyone but Logan outside the demands of politeness, and had taken to going on long walks around the grounds. Logan was worried about her, but determined not to show it. Tonight, he wanted her to enjoy herself. Dropping onto her bed, he wordlessly handed her a wrapped package.

"What's this?" He nodded at her to unwrap it and she did so, all the while glancing at him questioningly from under her eyelashes. At last she could read the writing on the rectangular box, and the smile she directed at him made his heart melt. "Parcheesi, Logan?" Now he grinned back, and she laughed aloud. It had been so long since he heard that sound, and he hadn't realized how much he had missed it.

They played three games, two of which he won, and she fell asleep on his shoulder part-way through the third. Gently, he laid her head on the pillow, and pulled up the blankets around her still form. Instinctively, he leaned in to kiss her pale forehead. "Sleep well, Marie," it was only as he shut the door quietly behind him that he heard her own sleepy goodnight.

Over the next month, Logan continued to sit with her each night until she fell asleep, and at these times was given the opportunity to study her closely. If he said so himself, during their time together she was coming back out of her shell, even if she still kept mostly to herself during the day. Now in the evenings, when they did not play a game or watch a movie, they just talked. He told her stories from his bar-hopping days, while she reminisced about growing up with her parents. At these times, she would become almost animated, but it was only when she fell asleep in his arms that she truly seemed at peace.

One night, he read a book while she slept next to him. Her sleep, usually so serene, became fitful. By his side, she began to turn over and mumble, then flail. Still asleep, her hand crept across his chest and then began to drag gently across the thin undershirt toward his stomach. Surprised, Logan flinched away then glanced down at her sleeping form, only to be met with a view of her full breasts down the top of her camisole. Shocked and oddly guilty, he leapt from the bed and hurried from the room.

"Logan?" Marie called sleepily as the door slammed behind him.

Over the next few days, Marie was hurt and bewildered when Logan did not come to see her. He avoided her in the halls, and pretended not to hear when she called his name across a crowded room. At a barbecue for faculty and students, he pointedly engaged in conversation with Ororo or one of the other teachers whenever she came within speaking distance. Marie did not find another chance to talk with him until mid-May, when their paths crossed in one of the gardens.

"Logan! Wait!" They were too close for him to pretend he hadn't heard, so he slowed down for her to catch up, even though he still did not meet her eyes. "I, Logan, I need to know why you've been avoiding me. Is something wrong, did I do something?" He couldn't stand the sadness in her deep green eyes.

"No, darlin', you didn't do anything," now the hurt in her face flickered briefly to anger. "Then what is it, why've you been ignoring me?" For the first time, he brought his eyes to hers, and held her gaze. This time, it was she who looked away first. Now she knew, there was no denying what she must see in his eyes. But what she said next surprised him.

"Logan... what would you do if I told you I loved you?" He drew in a deep breath, then stepped forward to grasp her waist intimately. Could she really mean -- ? "Oh, Marie," he slid one hand up her back. "I'd have to tell you it would never work," he brought the other up to cup her jaw, "I'd have to tell you I'm much too old," he gently tilted her head backwards, "I'd have to tell you that even though I've always wanted to touch you, I'd never realized just how much until this moment." And then he kissed her. Gently, warmly, implacably.


End file.
